khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 Harry never was good at dancing. Then again, he'd never had much practice. Dancing, like most other things considered fun by normal humans, was banned in the Dursley household.

Harry shuffled around the halls of Hogwarts, hands in his pockets, just days after the Yule Ball. Ron and Hermione were having yet another fight that Harry was trying to avoid being dragged into. He felt badly about the way he'd treated his date (though he couldn't remember which sister he'd gone with), having spent all night staring at Cho Chang.

Cho Chang, who had the perfect boyfriend and probably wouldn't go for Harry even if she didn't.

Harry sighed, looking around him. Life at Hogwarts was never exactly dull. Someone was out for his life – as per usual – he was failing potions (again, as per usual), and the weather was reflecting his mood…a sleet kind of rain that prevented his motivation from getting him down to Hagrid's hut. He couldn't stay in Gryffindor tower long enough to find his invisibility cloak and get out, so he was now slouching behind a column, pretending not to exist.

"What are you doing here?" One of the two sisters he and/or Ron had gone to the Yule Ball with was standing in front of him. Going by the sneer on her face at the sight of Harry, he'd guess it was his date.

"Oh, I'm just…hiding."

"Hiding?"

"From Ron and Hermione."

She lifted her nose. "Oh. He ignored my sister at the dance. May as well have just stood her up." Yup. Definitely his date.

"Yeah, sorry about that. He's kind of…confused."

"I'll say." She flipped a braid back behind her robes. Harry wondered why on Earth she was wearing her school uniform on a weekend. He didn't think it polite to ask.

"And…I'm sorry…I didn't ask you to dance. I really can't dance… I might've stepped on your foot."

To his great surprise, she smiled genuinely. "That's okay. I figured as much. That, and you couldn't keep your eyes off of Cho Chang."

Harry blushed deeply, unable to keep himself from cooing "yeah, she did look quite beautiful, didn't she?"

She looked horribly perturbed and offended. "Well, I never!"

Harry never really understood why she stormed off, but he guess that it might have had to do with the fact that he never told her half as much about herself at the dance. Hermione would probably smack him for this later.

X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X –x – X

Harry remembered his flaw at the Yule Ball, and couldn't help connecting the moment then to the moment now. He couldn't stop staring at Ginny. He knew that he should be the one dancing with her, holding her closely, telling her how beautiful she looked…not that smarmy ex-boyfriend of hers. Who the Hell invited Dean Thomas anyway?

Harry kicked a stone on the ground with such force that it smacked the leg of a crotchety old witch at the nearest table, who promptly turned to glare at Harry. He shrugged sheepishly, trying to whistle aimlessly. He rocked from side to side, a million thoughts bursting through his mind at once. I should just forget about her. Just forget about her. Just forget about her? I can't just forget about her! She's the only girl I've ever felt this way about…

But he looked at the smile on Ginny's face, as Dean twirled her around, and he felt his blood boil. He thought that she loved him. She kissed him on his birthday. Was this just some sort of act to make him jealous?

He could see the same look on Fluer's face. As nausea-inducing as it was, Harry also found it…kind of sweet. Although on Hermione's face, it was sickening. (She was like a sister, and was dancing with Ron, who was like a brother.) Ron was going to get the girl in the end, they all must have known that. Ginny, if she ever even forgave Harry – was she even going to be alive? Was she going to be the least bit interested in him? What if she had moved on? What if Harry himself never survived…

Harry had started a nervous pacing, biting his lip and twirling his knotted fingers around one another, when Luna Lovegood, of all people, walked up to him.

"Oh, hello Harry. Is that a new kind of dance you're doing?"

"How did you –" Harry shook his head. This was Luna Lovegood, the girl who talked to trees, fed Thestrals, and believed in Nargles. Why was he even asking such a ridiculous question? "…I don't know, maybe in some places it is."

Luna looked over to where Ginny was standing. Ginny shot Luna a stare of complete animosity, as if warning Luna to keep away from Harry. Harry, feeling she had no right to talk - er, look - stood directly in front of Luna, outside of Ginny's eyesight.

"I suppose you still love her, then?" Luna was looking at the ground shyly. Her hands were behind her back and she was swaying to and fro. Her hair swished back and forth.

Taking this opportunity to improve on his social manners, Harry asked, "Would you care to dance, Luna?"

"Love to!" she took his hand lightly, leading him out to the dance floor. Harry was impressed with the strength that he felt, just through her fingertips. He was even more impressed when he found that she was also leading the dance. "I noticed that you weren't very good at this at the Yule Ball."

"Really? What, were you spying on me?" he joked. She smiled, but shook her head. Harry wondered why on Earth she wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"You were dancing in the middle, silly."

"Oh, yeah…that."

They remained silent for awhile. Harry was usually unnerved by the silence, as it usually meant that somebody was creeping up on him. But with Luna, it was a calming quiet, as opposed to an eerie quiet. He held her closer, putting his head on hers. Everything felt so calm and so peaceful. He wished it could be this way all the time. Why were things never this restful?

The dance ended, and it looked as though speeches about whatever it was speeches were normally about at weddings were getting ready to be made. Luna leaned up on her toes. She kissed him on the cheek. "I think I should go check on my dad now. I hope I'll hear from you…" she gave him a knowing look. "If you can. Be careful." Harry watched her walking away, missing the heartbroken glance from Ginny, standing moodily in the corner.

X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X – x – X

Harry trumped through the wreckage that used to be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They'd managed to clear the bodies up, and their allies were discussing ways and times to rebuild the school. The teachers were trying to take care of the injured. Neville was surrounded by a horde of girls, and didn't really look like he knew how to take it. Ron and Hermione were cuddling in a corner, holding hands, and surrounded by Ron's family. Hermione was taking on the roll that Harry imagined Mrs. Weasley would play in any other situation – quieting everyone down and trying to console them all. Harry, although he thought of them as family, didn't think he could quite handle all the pain at the moment.

He slouched down to the lake, sitting cross-legged and watching the Giant Squid toss debris out of the lake. He couldn't hold it all in. All of the deaths, all of the destruction…he didn't even like his aunt and uncle, yet he couldn't help wondering where they were right now, and were they okay? Was Dudley any different now? Would he grow up to be as ignorant and fearful as his parents? What about Draco? His mother really loved him, what was she doing with someone like Lucious? Would Draco change? Was he ever really evil at all? How would Harry let everyone know the truth about Snape? Who would the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts now? And the thought that caught him most off-guard: Where was Luna?

"Hello," he turned to see Luna just standing there, as if she had read his mind. She looked dirtied and injured, but okay. She sat on the ground next to him. "I imagined you'd be here…to cool off…and maybe you'd like some quiet company…" she reached deep into her pockets. "And some candy."

Harry smiled. Oh Luna. You always know what to say."

"It's a gift." They both ate their candy in silence.

If they completely forgot about the war that had just been going on, it almost looked beautiful. The sun was sitting just on top of the hills, a soft pinkish glow making everything look calming and demure. Harry shook his head. "It's all so…weird." He laid back, staring at the trees.

"They look like they're smiling, don't they?" Luna asked dreamily. "I love the trees…they don't discriminate."

Harry didn't really care what she meant or what she was thinking. Her voice was making him forget about all the evil he had just encountered, and making him think about the trees. He just knew he was going to have weird dreams about trees dancing around and singing to him.

Or was that…Luna singing? She seemed to be humming a lullaby.

Harry laid on his side, breathing rhythmically. He could feel Luna laying close to him. Without thinking about it, he put his forehead next to hers, and kissed her softly on the nose. She didn't ask him anything. She took his hand in hers, and the two fell asleep, for the first time in several days.

khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 Things like these shouldn’t be this hard. How hard is it to say – to look someone in the eyes - and say ‘I love you’? A first person, drastically overused word, and a second person. ‘I love you’ – the one phrase that should mean everything, but is said so often that it signifies nothing.

But when is the right time to really say something of this magnitude? I watch my best friend, see her chattering, giggling, completely oblivious to the world. I just want to shake her, let her know that I have something I need to say, and I need her absolute attention to say it.

I want to say what I’m thinking. I want to stop pretending.

But when I feel the words come to my lips, they die. I shake my head, I smile my Stepfordgrin, and I think to myself, Later. Later on today, definitely. But our days are so rushed that we barely have time to say hello, let alone to make startling confessions. By the time we get to her locker, I lose my nerve again. She is talking, completely at ease. She looks at me, but I have run out of words to say. I just shrug.

I start to walk out of the hallway – That was the perfect time, I tell myself. You missed your one chance. Opportunities like that don’t occur every day, and you just missed yours.
I’m not so relieved to see TJ is there. I wanted some time to be by myself. And anyways, he must have already gone to his locker. Why is he still here? Is he waiting for me?

“Hi, Alice” he says softly. I don’t know why he’s so shy. Or so quiet, so un-talkative. It’s. only me. Doesn’t he know I won’t bite?

I prattle off, operating on auto-pilot. I have no idea what I’m talking about. TJ just stands there, nodding at me. I have no idea what I’m saying, but I do know that I’m thinking of something completely different.

TJ looks at his shoes and then at me. And then, we’re both on auto-pilot; we go down stairs, talking vaguely about things that don’t matter (Or rather, I’m talking. TJ’s walking next to me, barely alive). We hug goodbye and I think that, as he leaves, I hear him muttering something under his breath; something that - I have an awkward feeling – he doesn’t want me to hear.

I throw water hastily onto my face and try to breathe normally. I try to undo the knot in my stomach – the one that is accompanied by the sick, crying feeling. I don’t know how to handle it. I tremble and try to hold back the hurt and the need to cry – finding it impossible, and that tears are streaming down my face. My stomach begins to jerk away from the rest of my body. I am losing it. I am becoming more and more unable to hold in my sick tears and sad nausea.

I straighten up and stare into the mirror on the wall in front of me. I stared straight in, furrowing my brow and frowning. All of this just makes things worse. Look at yourself. Failure. That’s what you are. You have no courage. You’re just lucky you can breathe on your own.

I don’t want to look at myself as I start crying. I can feel my face contort – and that’s bad enough. I don’t want anyone else – namely my parents – to see me like this. I don’t want them to ask, I don’t want to explain.

What has happened to me? How have I suddenly gone from a strong, independent girl who relied on no one, who treated everyone with the same cynical, sarcastic manner, to a girl who is sad and cries all the time, who depends on others to help her through her misery, who sets one person apart from all the rest for special treatment?

I bang my head on the wall. My parents hear this and everything gets quiet. “Alice?” my mother calls. “Are you alright?” I mumble something, suddenly terrified that any noise above a grunt will give away my secret. Had my parents not been in the house, I would have broken the mirror into a million pieces and taken care of this pesky heart of mine.

Oh, how I hate my life.

I approach the lockers the next morning with caution. It isn’t often that I see TJ so flustered and angry with emotion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry. I try to reach out to comfort him, but he moves too quickly away.

And that has never happened to me before. I’m not sure if I should be hurt by his rejection or worried about his sudden cold shoulder, but either way, there’s no time for me to deal with it.
And things don’t get better when I see her again. She’s smiling and perfect and happy and everything I’m not. I’ve never felt so jealous of someone in my life, or so intimidated – how is it that she can be so wonderful? I lose all resolve to say anything again, and I resent her for it.

But when she looks at me, I am overwhelmed with this feeling –

This feeling of overwhelming pain and anguish that comes with liking someone who can never return your feelings… the feeling you can’t hold back, so you cry – or almost do, but are too afraid of the reactions of those in the room. You literally feel the pain coursing inside you.

Not only can I not talk now, but I don’t want to, and I don’t see any time in the future when I will. I can’t help my feelings. As I look at her, my rational heart knows that nothing will ever change. She will never feel the way that I feel. My mind draws me into imaginations in which my heart gets what it wants, but I know this can never be true. I can only hope the rest of the day goes normally. The last thing I want is something else to worry about.

But it doesn’t. TJ is rushing past me, and I barely have time to reach out and stop him. He doesn’t give me any time to think before he is screaming at me – “How could you let this happen? Why did you let it happen? Because for awhile, I felt nothing for you, and I was content with the way life was going. Then, you had to treat me like you do, had to be all flirty when you know well that it means nothing. I’m tired of it. Leave me alone,” he snaps. He then sighs, letting out a deep breath he was holding within, and walks quickly in the other direction.

And now I’m jealous of TJ as well. At least he said what he needed to say, at least he has courage. I’m still waiting for mine to come in. I’m still waiting to exhale.

khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 You’re hurting yourself more than me.

Your face remains unchanged - impassive.

Izzat so?

We seem to be communicating telepathically.

That shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s always been that way. You do so much to yourself, yet I remain unchanged.

You cock your head. I cock mine too.

You’re the one who feels broken. You’re the one who hurls the insults. You’re the one who can’t stand the sight of me.

For a moment, I think you’re going to turn away, perhaps for the last time ever, only see glimpses of me.

Then, before I can react, your throw your fist, and I break into a million pieces.

There now, who’s broken?

You say, with a grin I can no longer reflect.

It may be my pieces.

But it’s still your blood on my broken mirror.

khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 I see your smiles, and I smile back.
Ouch.
Something about the nice way you’re treating me makes me feel even more left out.
Ouch.
I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me.
I don’t understand why I can’t just take the fact that you’re being nice to me and just run with it.
Ouch.
Being around you guys is intoxicating, it makes me smile.
But you don’t know me.
You’ll never know me.
You’ll never want to.
Ouch.
Even now, You give me this look like you accept me. How can you possibly accept me?
Ouch.
And then you treat me…like I’m nice.
You treat me like…you care about me.
Ouch.
I think you’re lying.
Ouch.
But then I look at you.
You’ve looked at me.
You’re watching where my hands are held.
Ouch.
You look away.
Ouch.
There’s a concerned look on your face.
Stop.
I’m not the only one keeping secrets.
Stop.
What do I do now?
Stop.
When you know?
Stop.
Pause.
Ouch.
Not until you tell me to stop.

55 Minutes

May. 23rd, 2013 12:50 am
khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 All I have ever been taught is how to lie down in front of the door of opportunity while the over-zealous and over-achieving and the smart and the happy wiped their feet on me, without even so much as a “thank you”. My cerulean blue personality was only too happy to oblige. Most of the time it wanted to help out, to really rub it in. All I knew how to be was the doormat. I didn’t learn how to even be the suitcase or the pencil. Just the doormat. I have spent so much of my life laying down. Occasionally I have stood up, only to be slapped back down again – not by feet, but by my own will. The only trick this mat has ever learnt was to destroy itself, to beat itself up while people watched, not doing anything, either because they didn’t see what was going on or because they weren’t sure what their reaction should be. Should they clap? Should they chastise? Certainly it is a very wonderful – if tragic – piece of magic.

This doormat has a voice and uses it too much. Generally this doormat is greeted by secret and sometimes imaginary eyerolls from the suitcases and the pencils and sometimes even the tie, if it deems the mat worthy enough of its time. But the doormat still never stands up and learns to walk around, nor does it soul-jump to see what it might perhaps be like to be the pencil or the suitcase, nor does it dream what being a tie would be like.

And I don’t know how to carry on the metaphor. All I want to say is that from 5:30-6:25 on Wednesdays nights, I don’t feel like a doormat.

I don’t feel like an outsider.

I don’t feel like an enemy.

I don’t feel weird or anxious or unhappy or hated.

I actually have a nickname.

I actually have friends.

What I say and what I feel actually matters.

And for 55 minutes, I am a very happy person.

For 55 straight minutes, I smile.

For 55 minutes I am living my life, not just for myself but for other people too.

For 55 minutes, I matter to someone, somewhere.

For 55 minutes I am not depressed.

For 55 minutes I do not cry.

For 55 minutes I do not think of the past or worry about the future.

For 55 minutes I do not worry about my homework or projects or my roommate or my laundry or taking a shower. For 55 minutes of my life the only things I have to care about are food and the time. Sometimes one or the other isn’t even a problem.

For 55 minutes I do not feel awkward.

For 55 minutes I do not feel lonely.

For 55 minutes I am not alone.

The other 1, 385 minutes of the day I am pretending to be someone else. Someone happier or someone moodier or someone who isn’t real. But for 55 minutes of the day, I get to be myself. I get to be Erin Elisabeth Byrne. And I am never happier.

khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 Every day, we stand at different ends of a really huge chasm, and we shout at each other. Eventually you get frustrated and storm off, and after awhile I start crying. It’s not like I can leap the chasm and go catch you, and keep you from leaving. I just have to sit there and see if you ever come back. Sometimes you sit there, just out of earshot, and watch me pleading. I get as close to the chasm as I possibly can, trying to get you to pay attention to what I’m saying. But you sit there with a blank face like you’re not registering anything. I know you’re hearing everything I say, you’re just acting like you don’t. And that frustrates me so much. Because all I want is for you to listen to me, but you won’t even do that. You just sit there, staring at me blankly.

    Some days, I contemplate throwing myself off the cliff, just so I can stop shouting and stop hearing you shout back. All I want is to make it across, but you obviously don’t want that or you would have helped that happen by now. Sometimes I just want to throw myself off and feel the wind, and sometimes I want to throw myself off because maybe that will finally get a reaction out of you. But no. For some vague, unexplainable reason, I come back out to the cliff every day, look at you from across the chasm, and we nod our heads, and the process starts all over again. It never moves, it never gets closer, and neither one of us ever makes it across. We just keep shouting. I have to wonder when our voices will go hoarse.

khantact: Silent Hill Revelation (Default)
 Let’s face it: People are going to complain either way. If they’d cast a dark-skinned person as Khan, then anger would have risen out of the fact that ‘oh, all villains are people of colour.’ Frankly I’m shocked no one has flipped their lid about the fact that the original Khan, a supposedly Indian character, was played by a Latino

I’d also like to point out that the idea that he has to be dark-skinned in order to be ethnically Indian - which they never fucking brought into this movie - is also racist. You don’t have to be black to be African, and being black doesn’t mean that you are African. Expecting a character named Khan to be dark-skinned is no less racist than expecting a character named Ashley to be white. Judging a character’s race or ethnicity based on their colour or name is inherently racist. This is also an alternate reality. Ricardo Maltoban’s Khan still exists, and new-Khan’s backstory is different. They do have something in common: eloquent speech, and frankly I think that’s why Cumberbatch was cast as Khan. Listen to their voices, how compelling and smooth they are. Star Trek takes place in a time after religion, so why are we insisting that it takes place in a time where race-by-colour is still recognized? Suzanne Collins stated that her Hunger Games takes place at a point in time where race is no longer recognized. Why can’t Star Trek be the same?

As far as a lack of women on the Enterprise? Yeah, okay, that bothers me too. But that is not of JJ Abrams’ doing. He did not write the fucking screenplay, nor did he create the original Star Trek crew. Other Star Treks are guilty of the same lack of gender diversity, or am I think only one who watched Enterprise, which only had Hoshi and T’Pol - neither of which, mind you, was quick to break away from some female stereotypes. If you want to bitch at someone, bitch at the person who did the casting and wrote the script. The faults of the movie do not lay solely on Benedict Cumberbatch or JJ Abrams. Some of the fault has to go to Gene Roddenberry, Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, Damon Lindelof, April Webster, and Alyssa Weisberg.

Also, can we just take a moment to appreciate what total badasses Nyota Uhura and Carol Marcus are? Uhura could probably command the ship if she wanted to, but she doesn’t fucking want to. She has a passion for languages, so that’s what she did. When she takes control and goes out to speak to the Klingons, neither Spock nor Kirk interferes until they see that she’s in danger because they know she’ll kick their asses if they do. And Carol Marcus? She saved Bones’ life and refused to be taken away from a dangerous situation because she knew she could handle it (and clearly this person didn’t see the movie because it was a torpedo, not a bomb, and Bones doesn’t hit on her while she’s diffusing it but while they’re still safely off-loading the thing and Kirk tells him to knock it off). Carol blows him off and she isn’t prudish about her body. She doesn’t give a fuck about who’s running the Enterprise, she boarded the ship to figure out what her father was up to and when her father doesn’t treat her with respect, she motherfucking slaps him. But it’s a complicated relationship - he’s her father and she loves him, even if he is an asshole. Saying that her relationship to her father is her most important role in the movie is sexist of you; she’s a motherfucking science officer and a really good one, too. Her most important role in the movie is her understanding of the torpedoes. She and Uhura are both strong and independent women. Yeah, the scenes of women in their underwear is fanservice, but so was Taylor Lautner being shirtless 90% of the time during the Twilight movies. JJ Abrams didn’t create fanservice. 

Oh, and I’ve seen this movie twice. Horny teenage boys? No, the people in the theaters were college-aged or older men and women. My friends and I are 20 and we were the youngest people in the theater at midnight, and every single person there with us - save one of our friends - is a classic Trek fan. So not appealing to original Star Trek fans? Speak for your fucking self, thanks.

Page generated Sep. 19th, 2017 06:52 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios